An Accidental Conspiracy
by Julius J
Summary: When two orphaned brothers are brought into the wizard world, they must uncover the truth behind their parents' demise. Battling with a new danger of the magical world, and their egos, will they help Harry, or destroy him in their search for justice?
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1: An Emergence**_

It was an unusually freezing New York city autumn, the leaves once green, now exhibited a bright

orange and yellow color, the light from the sun casting a light incandescent glow around them, unique

in the bitter-coldness around it.

"Achoo!" Peter rubbed his aching red nose on his sleeve, the sharp cold plastic further irritating his

sensitive nostrils. He looked up around him, the light in the now emptying park in which he stood

began to dim slowly.

He knew that the Sun's light would, for a short moment, intensify once it began to pass behind one of

the taller buildings. He stood there, under one of the maple trees, eyes closed, completely oblivious to

anything around him, waiting for that one period of sudden warmth to envelop him. He felt the light

grow stronger, and he felt the warmth spreading down into his now, very cold two legs. He sighed a

breath of gratitude, and then the light began to slowly fade away.

"Why can't the Sun always feel that good?" Peter asked to no one in particular.

His enjoyment of nature now over, Peter decided it was high time to get out of the now empty

clearing.

He started moving his insolent legs, struggling to get into a jog. But his legs simply wouldn't cooperate,

they had a new master now. For winter was a'coming, and didn't leave any room for argument.

He walked down along the road in the park, exited the park, and walked down Central Park West. The

cold wind and rapidly darkening light hurried Peter on, he was a little frightened by the many people he

still saw venturing the street. Imagining himself big and frightening in his mind, he turned left, a stiff

stoic frown stuck on his face, hoping he didn't look scared. Ignoring everyone he met, he eventually

moved down to a local hot-dog parlor that was still up and running. This was his rendezvous point

with his "keeper", as she was driving down this way from work. He stood on the pavement, trying not

to make eye contact with anybody as he stuck he cold hands into the pockets in his jacket, feeling the

valuable parcel within, playing with the pieces of string tying it together. His heart started pounding,

and his will against the cold strengthened, as he recalled the events that occurred not even an hour ago.

The wind blew threw him around constantly, the bite sinking deep into his core.

Gritting his teeth, he braced his small frame against the onslaught, momentarily forgetting about the

package, instead hoping his "keeper" would arrive soon. Just then, a sleek white _Buick Regal LS_ pulled

up to the pavement in front of him. Gratefully thanking her timing, and _Outdoor World_ for his jacket,

Peter eagerly opened the door and dropped into the cushy passenger seat.

The lady sitting next to him was Ms. Brown, a name which Peter thought was very boring and

unoriginal.

She was an elderly women, dressed in pink from top to bottom in plushy cotton clothes. She wore

spectacles that were so large as to give her an owlish appearance, which Peter had noticed on a lot of

adults her age. "_Must have been the fashion..." _Thought Peter.

She was very nice to him, and he had never heard of her ever being mean to one of the other children.

Her somewhat motherly role as his care-taker stemmed from the fact that he and his younger brother,

Tim, were orphans, and were currently placed in a large orphanage/boarding school named

_St George's. _

Peter Wolf (or Peter Van Wolf, as he liked to pretend), was a 11 year old native of California.

He was born on October 11th, had dark brown hair, and light blue eyes, a combination he found hard to

find in other people for some reason. He was tall for his age, and skinny, but he was wiry, like a ferret,

and could be very brutal when he was enticed to violence by somebody. Which almost never

happened, strong shot-gun like emotions were difficult for him to comprehend most of the time. He

found it easier being silent and stoic. The thought of the strong and silent type had always appealed to

him. Tim Wolf, his younger brother, was born on December 1st, had brown-red hair, and he also shared

his brother's blue eyes. Tim was also very tall for his age, but unlike Peter, he was solidly built. Tim

was somewhat lazy, while Peter was a hard worker, and was always getting in trouble with their parents

for procrastinating his chores. Before their parents died that is.

They had moved to New York city with their parents, after their dad, Charles Sebastian Wolf, got a

very enticing job offer as an executive in a company. Their father was a large-built Irish-American,

and was 35 years old last year, but he looked more like 50. He had dark black hair, then graying a bit,

and had a large Viking styled beard, which Peter never saw shaved off. He had blue eyes and had a

stern commanding voice. Which Peter often tried copying. His father was very strict, but in the good

way that he always made sense, at least Peter could always see the reasoning behind his actions. And

Peter had noticed from an early age that they indicated a strong intellect. Peter was a great admirer of

his father to a fault, and had always been awed by his father's seemingly infinite ability to answer any

question, and overcome any challenge. His father was Peter's very own, interactive _Encyclopedia _

_Britannica_! Their mother, Anne Wolf, was German. She had red hair, and brown eyes. She was a

lawyer by profession, but quit her job after Peter was born. She was the calm, caring, and docile

element in the family, as all the males insisted on being, "like a man_"_ as Peter would often arrogantly

say. Peter was 7 when their parents died, Tim was 5.

The golden happiness that was sure to last that could have been in the Empire City died abruptly

when both of their parents died in a freak accident. "Freak" in the sense that neither the police, nor the

doctors could figure out how, or why. They died instantly, that was as far as they were able to tell.

"They also died painlessly." They had told Peter and Tim. Neither Peter or Tim said a word, confusion

on their faces when, as they were about to go celebrate their fathers new job, saw their parents slump

down onto the side-walk pavement, right in front of their newly bought house. They had both rushed to

their sides, neither sure what was going on, only certain it was nothing good. "Mama!" They cried.

"Mama what's wrong? Papa? Stand up Papa, it's not funny!" Tim hoped that their parents were

playing a joke, Peter knew better, he knew something was wrong, and his panicky, shrilly yelling and

crying was causing Tim to start losing control, and completely confused, he started weeping hard. All

Peter remembered happening after that was him gripping his brother's shoulder and watching the police

cars and ambulances driving up to them. Watching a group of adults dressed in emergency-gear place

the bodies of their parents in the van, and driving off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. He

remembered the lights especially, and then the intimidating police officer walking up to them, and then

questioning them, softly, if they were the sons of the two. "_As if it weren't totally obvious._" Thought

Peter bitterly. Later on, he wondered who exactly it was that called 911 in the first place. He made a

mental note to later go and thank that person, should he ever find him or her. They eventually were

taken by the police officer, brought into the police car, and driven to the hospital where their parents

were brought. Peter knew though, despite constant encouragements from the officer that they (their

parents) were going to be fine, Peter knew they weren't, so did Tim, and Peter began brewing

resentment against the officer. "_Adults,_" He thought cynically, "_they're always lying to me._" Once it

was confirmed in a pasty white-walled waiting room that they had passed away, both of them were

allowed to pay their respects, and were then brought to the police station. After that, they were shuttled

from one place to another as sly reporters and suspicious detectives berated them with questions. After

nothing relating the deaths of their parents was uncovered. They were eventually placed in St. George's

after they had discovered that they had no apparent living relatives. The case was written off as an

"unique" incident.

Recalling the events of those days, Peter tried bringing his mind on something else, instead playing

with the parcel in his jacket.

"So deary," Croaked Ms. Brown warmly. "How was your day?"

Peter knew she meant how his meeting with the foreign students that he was supposed to have attended

in Central Park. Loads of students his age from Europe were coming to visit in a large cultural

exchange, something Peter didn't feel at all inclined to want to participate.

"_But at least I went." _He thought, although he only stayed around for 30 minutes, then proceeded to

walk around the park. _"Plus, I got to finally meet that man!" _He thought excitedly.

"It was nice!" He said happily.

"I met this one maa-, kid, Mathias... Something was his name!" He quickly corrected.

"Oh really?" Murmured Ms. Brown interested, slowly turning the car back into the car line.

"Someone said you arrived and then disappeared, how do you explain that Mr.?"

"Oh come on Ms. Brown!" Pouted Peter. No longer caring enough to keep up any pretense in caring.

"How long do you think I could have stayed there? I could hardly make out a word any of them said!"

"You know Peter," Said Ms. Brown . "You could have made some valuable strides there in terms of

developing your diplomatic relations abilities."

"Hmph." Snorted Peter, trying to block out her voice. "_Soon, I won't need to." _His attempted at what

he thought was an evil chuckle, instead uttered a strange growl. "Try as you might," She said,

ignoring his weirdness. "You cannot keep letting chances to make friends get away from you, after

all," She added sadly, "You already have trouble with your classmates in school."

This drove Peter evermore into his self-imposed isolation from her, he didn't want to be reminded of

the "strange" incidents that had been occurring at school, all of which were blamed on him, mostly

because all the children had banded together against him. What started merely as missing toys and

clothing, turned into beds lighting on fire and windows being smashed. But the most strange

occurrence was when Mr. MacArthur's (The Director of the Orphanage) car had somehow been put on

top of the roof of the boys' dormitory. "_They all hate me.." _Thought Peter angrily and sadly. The lost

clothing and toys were what had annoyed the other children, and Peter didn't understand how they

could possibly have thought he'd been the one responsible. "_I guess it's because I'm the new guy?" _He

pondered.

Ms. Brown started prattling along to him about the on goings in the school, and about his brother's

irrational fear about sleeping in the dark. Which Ms. Brown commented existed on the level of the

"extreme beyond ordinary children." While Peter only half listened to her when the conversation

involved his brother, he completely blocked her out on everything else. As they drove on, rain began to

sprinkle on the roof and windows of the car. Peter loved the rain, especially when safely in a car. He

continued grasping his most valuable possession hidden in his pocket. "_This," _He thought darkly.

"_This will finally turn things around..."_ He grinned wolfishly, as his trembling fingers traced the words

printed onto the envelope, _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: An agreement to Meet**

Peter rapped his knuckles on the Tiffany window sill. The sound echoing throughout the large oaken

office. He tried different patterns, copying elements from songs he heard on the radio. He went on and

on, oblivious to the obvious annoyance of the other people in the room. The office was Mr.

MacArthur's, and it was plainly decorated, only having a couple award certificates on the wall, and also

some pictures of previous directors, and also pictures of Mr MacArthur's wife, Suzy. Mr. MacArthur

looked up at Peter over his rectangular reading glasses, seated behind his highly polished Mahogany

desk, the golden name plate inscribed with his name shining bright from the light pouring forth through

the window. He was a large, corpulent man, with balding head, and pig-like hands. He wore a formal

suit, as he often does, and wore on his hand a single plain gold ring. He put down the bronze colored

letter he had been reading, and beckoned brusquely with his hand. Peter moved away from the

window. Walking carefully with his hands in his pockets, he tried not to look excited but instead had a

dispassionate face. He walked past Ms. Brown, who was also in the room, sitting in an arm chair

positioned at the right hand side of the desk. She had a troubled look on her face, staring at Peter

intently. Peter tried not to look at her, or else he might betray how excited he was right now. The letter

in Mr. MacArthur's hands was the very same one Peter had been hiding in his jacket.

Mr. MacArthur laid the letter down on the desk, leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes, and

breathed a soft sigh. "Well Peter?" He asked. "What is this all about then?" Peter shrugged his

shoulders, keeping some distance from him and the desk.

"I was just delivering the message sir." He plainly replied. "I haven't even read what was in the

letter."

Mr. MacArthur glanced him, evaluating Peter's response.

"I see..." He leaned forward, and with an encouraging nod from Ms. Brown, handed Peter the letter.

Peter breathed in deep, determined not to let his disguise drop, and with a detached look he read the

letter, his hands slightly shaking, while he struggled not to smile. In elegantly written black ink:

"_Greetings Mr. Wolf,_

_As empowered by the Wizengamot, I am a representative of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and _

_Wizardry. I have written this letter as a announcement of your acceptance to enter our school, as _

_requested by your grandfather, Mr. Henry Rastaban __Sigismund. If you should thereby be interested in _

_entering, please write your response on the backside of this letter before this Thursday , and then you _

_and your guardians shall be met this Thursday or at some later date more convenient to you, by the _

_newly appointed head of Student Admissions, Mr. Ralph Walter Waldenburg._

_Sincerely awaiting your reply, and wishing you well, Mr. Lizten"_

Mr. MacArthur could see that Peter was interested and trying to hide it. He snorted loudly at this.

Ms. Brown gave him a quick glance to shut him up. Mr. MacArthur, embarrassed, quickly pretended

to cough, "Well Peter?" he queried. "What do make of that?""I don't quite know Sir." he replied, "I

understood the part about 'wizard' but I don't know what the rest of it is all about."

"I see..." Mr. MacArthur said, "And the man who gave you this said Mr. Waldenburg would be coming

here this Thursday?"

"That is what he said Mr. MacArthur." said Peter slowly, carefully considering his every word.

"Confound it all Peter!" roared Mr. MacArthur, thumping his thick fist on the table hard, causing Peter

and Ms. Brown to jump, "We have told you time and time again, NEVER EVER MEET ADULTS

YOU DON'T KNOW IN PRIVATE! ESPECIALLY IF NO ONE ELSE KNOWS ABOUT IT!" Mr.

MacArthur's cheeks bobbing up and down like waves.

"Yes Mr. MacArthur." Simpered Peter, now a little frightened, and beginning to regret having shown

him the letter, "But it says that my grandfather made a request for me, and that he-"

"Doesn't matter Peter!" barked Mr. MacArthur, "Who knows who that person was? He could have

kidnapped you and we wouldn't have a clue of how to find you! I thought you were a smart boy, I had

no idea there was so little sense in that small head of yours."

Peters head dropped, on the verge of tears, he knew what Mr. MacArthur said was true.

"Calm down a little Micheal." pleaded Ms. Brown, quickly coming closer and putting a protective

hand on Peter's shoulder, "I am sure Peter understands that this wasn't his greatest moment." she said,

looking down at him with a perturbed look, "But he did come to no harm, and if what the letter says is

true, than the man would not have been a danger to him."

"Oh come on Berta!" reproved Mr. MacArthur, "I thought you would be a little bit more realistic than

this!"

He took pen and paper from a drawer in his desk, and quickly scribbled onto it a frenzied scrawl.

"W...I...Z...A...R...D...S!" he cried through clenched teeth between writing every letter, "Wizards!" He

showed them the paper, "How can you believe this? It is so full of lies even that the deepest pit

couldn't hold it all in!" He laughed a little, now cooling off a bit. Ms. Brown looked no less firm, still

grasping the shoulder of a very nervous Peter.

"Well Micheal," she said calmly, "We could write back, and if the man does show up, we can always

confirm his story, and if it doesn't make sense, we'll call the police, how about that Micheal?"

Mr. MacArthur sat down nodding his head, his rant now done with, almost.

"But there isn't even a means of contacting them, there is no return address, or any address of any kind!

And if he were a real representative of this, _school_, why would he not come straight to us in the first

place instead of first contacting Peter?" he asked.

"Well..." started Peter, unsure if were allowed to speak, or breath, "I asked him to Sir."

"Hmm?" Mr. MacArthur scratched his chin, "And how did you manage to ask him that, if you hadn't

met before the time he gave you the letter in the park?"

"In a dream Sir, I talked to him in a dream."

At this Mr. MacArthur didn't react as much as Peter thought he would, instead he chuckled a bit, but his

smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Now then Peter," he hissed warningly. "Give me the truth, how did you come into contact with this

man?"

"I just told you Sir, it was in a dre-"

"Enough!" Barked Mr. MacArthur, waving his hand at him, "I have had enough of this nonsense, we

will see in a few days if you are telling the truth or not, it is Tuesday now.... We still have two more

days. And in the meantime, Peter," Peter breathed in, apprehensive, "You will stay here in the

grounds, and you will not go out on any of the planned trips for this month, and you will not leave your

room after 8 o'clock for every night, understand?"

"Absolutely Sir, I completely understand." Answered Peter graciously, relieved it wasn't anything

more serious than that.

After that, Ms. Brown shooed Peter out of the room, telling him it would be best for him to go stay in

his room for the rest of the day.

"Yes Ms. Brown." he answered submissively.

* * *

Peter continued walking down the hall connecting to Mr. MacArthur's office, waiting for Ms. Brown to

go back in and close the door. As soon as the door was closed, Peter turned around and sprinted to the

door, and then put his ear by the key hole. He could barely make out audible sounds coming from in

the room.

"Darn..." he swore quietly, "Speak up will you?" Just then he caught something.

"His brother, yes I know, but how will we?" Said one voice, which Peter was sure belonged to Mr.

MacArthur.

"If they wrote to Peter how can we be sure that.... be as well?"

"Darn." swore Peter again, unable to make out part of the sentence.

"So are we in agreement then Micheal?" sounded a voice very much like Ms. Brown's.

"Yes... Although it pains me to do this."

"I know." Answered Ms. Brown.

"Well, we'll see won't we, depending on what the man says." She said.

"Indeed." answered Mr. MacArthur.

There was a silence, and Peter was wishing they'd hurry up, he was tired from kneeling there.

"Oh blast..." muttered Mr. MacArthur.

"What is it Micheal?" asked Ms. Brown.

"I think that rascal held onto the letter, go get it back from him will you Berta?"

"Yes Mr. MacArthur."

Peter heard foot steps coming closer. Quickly retreating down the hall, he managed to turn the corner

before Ms. Brown opened the door and walked out. She quickly glanced side-to-side, and then

proceeded down to the opposite end of the hall. Peter continued walking, finding him self eventually in

the dormitories. The dormitories were large, the boys' end containing over 200 small rooms, with two

orphans per room, the girls having a little over 150 rooms with two a piece. The color of the rooms had

some pink with a kind of Tudor mix of white walls and brown and/or black wooden doors. Walking

past his own room, or _"cell"_ as he liked to dramatize, Peter went to his brothers room, which was only

a few "cells" down from his. He went up to the door, betting his brother was still inside, as he knew

Tim didn't leave his room very often, even though it was almost noon.

He rapped his knuckles on the door in his characteristic fashion, "Hey, Tim! Open up!"

He waited there a second, then heard a crashing sound coming from in the room, and a muffled yell. A

second later, the door opened, and Tim's small head appeared cautiously out from in the room, using

the door as a shield. Peter just walked on in, and when he saw the room, he was revolted.

The small room was in complete disarray, coloring books, long since colored in and out, lying all over

the floor, toys and plushies in the shelves and beds. Peter, who hated having his own room in a mess,

was disgusted with the "_cell_".

"Say Tim," he said, "Why is your room so messed up? Doesn't your room-mate mind?"

Tim walked up to him, wearing blue striped pajamas, his short cropped reddish hair lazily spread in

every direction, closing the door behind him he said, "Nah, he doesn't care, in fact a lot of

this is his."

"Ah." Replied Peter, still surveying the room with a distasteful eye.

"So Pete," said Tim happily, jumping onto his bed, "What's up?"

Peter grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, mumbling, "Well... Well Tim, I got proof that

Grandfather is alive, and he knows where we are."

Tim just sat there, a blank expression on his face. Peter's timid smile started to warp into a broad smile.

Tim's face began to thaw, a huge smile growing on his face. They both just smiled broadly at each

other, and began to laugh happily. They weren't alone! Tim began to cry, but just continued laughing,

nearly doubling over, wiping away the tears with his arms. Peter sat next to him, and put one arm

around his little brother, laughing just as hard as Tim was.

"Hey Tim, wanna know, hehe, how I know he knows?" Asked Peter, barely holding back the urge to

just shove the letter he still held in his pocket into Tim's hands.

"How Pete?" Asked Tim eagerly, "How'd you find out?"

"Well..." stalled Peter, slowly pulling the letter out of his pocket in full view of Tim, "I got this letter

from a guy who apparently knows him, and did you know Tim? Grandfather has a really weird name, I

wonder why Mom and Dad never mentioned hi-" Tim's arm snapped out like a striking snake,

snatching the letter out of Peter's fingers before he could finish his sentence.

"Tim, you can't even read that well," Peter started, "let me re-"

"No!" Yelled Tim, "I'll do it!"

After a few minutes of struggling, and Peter's snickering, Tim finally managed to understand the gist of

it.

"Grandfather's name is Henry Rasta'an Sigismaund? Weird." Said Tim.

"Glad to see you're actually learning something here Tim," Peter said sarcastically, "It's '_Henry_

_Rastaban Sigismund_.' And yeah. I thought it was unusual too, I don't see _Wolf_ anywhere..."

"Hang on a minute Pete, is he Mom's dad, or Dad's Dad?"

"I don't know..." answered Peter, "But does it really matter?"

"I guess not, but then hey, what's with '_Wizards?'" _Asked Tim.

Peter grinned at this, feeling the familiar excitement he had felt earlier, he stood up and walked to the

other side of the room. He turned and looked at Tim, who was looking at him with a puzzled

expression.

"Pete? Well Pete? What does it mean?" He asked.

"Hey Tim, remember that time when Mr. MacArthur's car got on the roof?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I remember." Replied Tim.

"Well..." started Peter, jumping on the bed, and wrapping up the blanket around him like a cape. He

then stood there, looking as melodramatic as possible. "I think I did that. With my mind!"

They both stared at each other, neither moving or speaking. Then-

"Pete, that's baloney, there's no way you did that, you're fibbing. Now give me back my blanket."

Peter merely shrugged, and jumped down, waving the edges of the blanket like wings. "You'll regret

that Tim, you should have believed me." He looked around to face his brother, and threw out his hand,

twisting it like a claw, "Join the dark-side Tim!" Peter said dramatically. Tim just laughed at him, and

said that he'd make a better Yoda than a Vader. Peter angrily threw off the blanket, and putting on an

air of the utmost dignity and humility, he walked out of Tim's room, but not before grabbing the letter

back from Tim.

"Hey Pete!"

Peter turned around, Tim was back hiding behind the door.

"If the man does come, and it's not a joke, let me know, okay?"

Peter could see that his brother was dying to know the truth, if they really did have another living

relative.

"Sure thing Tim."

Tim nodded his head, and with a quick push, shut the door.

Peter walked back to the office, deciding it what high-time to give Mr. MacArthur the letter back. So

he could write a response to the man in the letter. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, and once

hearing a verbal acknowledgment, entered the room.

"Oh Peter," said Mr. MacArthur, "I sent Ms. Brown to look for you, did she tell you to come here?"

"Yes... Mr. MacArthur." lied Peter, deciding it was better this way.

"Well then, let's take a look at that then." Mr. MacArthur said, taking the letter from Peter. He then

promptly put the letter in his drawer. Sitting back into his chair, he looked very satisfied and content.

"Um, Mr. MacArthur?" Asked Peter timidly.

"Yes Peter?" Answered Mr. MacArthur coolly.

"Well, Sir, aren't you gonna write a response on the letter?" He asked quickly.

Mr. MacArthur sighed, and leaned forward in his chair, "Look Peter," he began, "There's simply no

way writing a response on the back of a letter that doesn't even have an address is going anywhere,

there's no way for it to go _anywhere. _You see, if we did have an address, we'd have the Police do a

background check on the place first, before allowing any kind of meeting, it's simply preposterous to

think that _magic_, is going to send the letter to them."

Peter nodded his head sadly, he had been hoping he'd be able to meet his grandfather...

Mr. MacArthur saw how distraught Peter was, sighing, he took out the letter silently, and handed it

back to Peter.

"If it makes you happy, go ahead and write on the back of the letter, but be warned, I warned you not to

take it too seriously."

Peter beamed, and thanked Mr. MacArthur. With a grunt, Mr. MacArthur waved Peter away, and Peter

didn't need encouragement.

Peter rushed to his "_cell"_ , and slammed the door. His room, unlike Tim's was orderly and neat, his

clothes he always kept folded in his small wooden cabinet, and his bed was always made. Peter had an

ongoing truce with his room-mate, who was not as tidy as he. There was thus a red line drawn on the

floor, dividing the room into two halves, where on the side his room-mate held the bed was messy, and

clothes scattered all over the floor, as compared to Peter's. He walked over to his desk, and picking up

a pen, began to write, with his malnourished handwriting skills, as he had already planned out

everything he was going to say:

_Dear Mr. Lizten,_

_We will be glad to accept your request for a meeting this Thursday around noontime._

_P.S. What does my grandfather look like? _

_P.P.S Is he my Dad's Dad, or my Mom's Dad?_

_P.P.P.S Can Tim come?_

_P.P.P.P.S Does it snow where you live?_

_-Sincerely, Vader, self-appointed Secretary to Mr. MacArthur._

Peter read the response, and decided he liked it, it appealed to his easy-going mood right now, he

wanted to be carefree. He sat there, waiting for something unexpected, some _unusual_ or maybe

supernatural event to take place. He gave the letter a hard stare, believing that if he didn't always have

his eyes on it, he would miss whatever was going to happen. Eventually his eyes hurt, and so he

decided it best to only do one eye at a time. Nearly an hour past by, and the letter didn't react at all,

Peter was beginning to get a little mad, yelling at it, and eventually was resorted to trying to say some

magic phrases to make something happen, spouting off nonsense word after nonsense word, in a vain

attempt to channel his "_power." _

"Use the force Peter..."He whispered, his eye brows raised as high as sails on his forehead, and then

he started a dance around the desk, throwing his hands in the air, muttering darkly to himself, eying the

letter evilly. An hour and a half later, he left the room halfheartedly, spitting out curse after each

nonsense word in rapid repetition, as he had gotten pretty good at it. He left the, now hated, letter on

the desk in his room. Alone in the darkened room, the letter had begun to curl up, eventually folding

itself into a perfect neat role of parchment. Then, a bright green light flashed in the room, and the

paper lit on fire, green flames eating it up rapidly, like a hungry animal devouring it's prey, until there

was nothing left. And the fire evaporated into nothingness with a quiet hiss. Only a small burn mark

on the desk remained to give any indication of what just happened.

**Author's Note:**

In case anyone is wondering, or if they didn't notice, I went and did an unorthodox contacting method for Peter in regards to Hogwarts . Since the solitary meeting in the beginning wouldn't have happened normally, and Dumbledore would most likely be the one presenting, but don't worry, I did it knowingly, and intentionally, so have a little faith, I know what I'm doing. I have a plan. Also, I deleted the old chapter 3 and pasted it too chapter two, as chapter two was a little short, and I really intended to have two and three one chapter anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Other Ones**

_**Ten Years Earlier.**_

"_DONG!"_

The large bronze bell rung eleven o'clock in the evening. The oil lamps serving as the only

illumination in the darkened city. Tiny wisps of warmth, harboring swarms of night time insects, their

movements casting parading shadows on the walls of the brick buildings, a large carnival of shape-

shifting excitement contrasted to the silence and stillness of the city.

Severus Snape went down a lonely street, alone of all but a persistent and obvious impatience, which lent him swiftness and a light spring to his stride. His glance constantly shifted left and right, searching for something. He slowed down, his boots

hitting the ground softly.

"There," he said softly, advancing on a small door, barely visible in the barely lighten street. He grasped the door handle and opened the door, only to find a wand suddenly pointed at his face.

"Password what?" croaked a voice from beyond the wand.

"Red slithers storm." answered Snape, undaunted of the wand nearly stabbing his left eye out. The guard at the door withdrew the wand, and beckoning Snape in, slammed the door quickly behind him.

"Your methods are far too crude Gregory," Snape said to the man that opened the door, who was a short, ugly man with a large beard and large, crude hands. He was dressed slovenly, his clothes mismatched and dirty. He still held his wand in his

somewhat ragged right hand.

"I was able to still open the door; you didn't even think to cast a simple locking or barrier spell on it, what if it was a troop of Aurors at the door? I don't think that the Dark Lord would approve." rebuked Snape sharply, walking past him and sitting down

on a small wooden chair in the room. The only window emitted a cool light from the lamps outside. There was a wooden table, with a purple velvet bag on top, and about 12 more chairs.

"Shaddup Snape!" roared Gregory angrily, swishing his wand, "I am careful, I don't let anybody in, and I watch the streets, and another thing Snape, I am not under your command so be careful to whom you speak."

Snape was unimpressed with Gregory's threats; instead he inspected some imperfection on the back of his hand with great interest.

"I am a part of the Dark Lord's inner circle, watch to whom _you _speak, Gregory."

Gregory merely muttered something distasteful under his breath in Russian, and pulled up a chair from the opposite end of the table from Snape.

They waited there for a few minutes, Snape keeping his eyes on the ceiling with interest, watching a small spider weave a web. Gregory muttered a slow and steady stream of taunts and growled incisive remarks under his breath; Snape, merely ignored

him. Their tense silence continued for several more minutes.

Snape lowered his head, "Did you hear that Gregory?" he asked.

"No." said Gregory gruffly, cupping his left hear, craning out towards the door.

"There it is again," Snape said, "I heard a popping sound." Snape took out his wand, and nodded to Gregory to open the door. Gregory, slightly nervous, drew slowly to the door, drawing his own wand from his jacket. A few seconds later, Lucius,

Bellatrix, and several other Death Eaters, all dressed in their black robes, walked in serenely into the room. Snape stood up and nodded to Lucius and Bellatrix, both of whom nodded back.

"No news from the Dark Lord yet?" asked Lucius.

"Not yet, but now that we are all here, he should be arriving." answered Snape. Bellatrix smiled at Snape, and simply slinked to one end of the room to wait. Severus inspected the other Death Eaters,

"New recruits?" he asked Lucius.

"Yes, indeed," answered Lucius halfheartedly, "They probably couldn't outwit a troll, but they are fanatical, and that will be useful, no matter what kind of mission this turns out to be."

The small number of new recruits just stayed together in a group, unsure of what to do. They stood there waiting, and a few moments later a great wind shot through the room, whipping their robes about, and a great shadow enveloped them. Shouts

rang out, and as quick as the darkness came, it went. Lord Voldemort was standing in the middle of the room, clad in a black robe, his arms clasped in-front of him. His expression was vacant, and impossible to read. Everyone in the room was on their

knees, their heads nearly touching the ground.

"Rise." commanded the Dark Lord, his high voice ringing in the small room. They rose slowly, the most senior Death Eaters first and then the new recruits, who were extremely spooked out by the sudden appearance of Lord Voldemort.

"Friends," said Voldemort lightly, with a broad smile, "I have a most delicate operation for you to undertake, but please sit," his hands dropped out to his sides, and instantly the chairs around the room found their way to the rim of the table. Lord

Voldemort transmuted one of them into a high backed mahogany chair, grand and terrible in its design. He sat, and then there was a hasty clatter of chairs as the rest all seated themselves, Severus the closest on his right, and Bellatrix the closest on his left.

Voldemort raised his hands, "Now..." the purple velvet on the table shifted, and revealed a pile of parchments, "These papers contain information of a certain vault in Gringots. They were very difficult to obtain, so do be delicate with them. They

contain a description of the family fortunes of many ancient pure-blooded families throughout Europe, specifically, what they contain..." He stared each one of them in the face, all of them forced to look away, forced to acknowledge defeat, as if they were

afraid he could somehow kill them with that stare alone. Leaving them a little more at unease than they were before, he continued, waving his hand lightly, and as he did so, the parchments began to circulate, each paper finding a death eater, "I want

you to find and bring to me something in particular from this list, the rest of it we could always come back for. But the object of my desires is kept by the family of Green_."_ The Death Eaters quickly looked up at this,

"Green?" commented Lucius, totally astounded, "You mean the pure-blood dynasty of Green, correct Lord?"

"Yes Lucius, the great and mighty house of _Green_..." he emphasized gritting his teeth dangerously, "What else did you think I meant Lucius?"

"Nothing at all, forgive me." Lucius quickly amended, bowing as deep as he could while sitting, his face painted with terror and regret for having brought upon him his masters anger.

The Death Eaters began to read the material, glancing at money transfers and deposits of the Green family. Voldemort continued, "Lucius will be responsible for this undertaking, and Bellatrix and

Severus will serve as seconds. This item is of high importance, I expect it to take some time to locate, as I have myself scanned the documents extensively... But I want results within two months... Or there will be serious repercussions..." he glanced at

everyone at the table, all of them shivering and trying their best not to look directly at him. Voldemort stood up, and then so did the Death Eaters, their movements bovine and torpid.

"My friends..." he said coldly, his smile radiating with false warmth. "I have matters to attend to... Severus!"

Snape's head jerked at the sound of his name, "My Lord?"

"You will come with me Severus, and I expect the rest of you to be fruitful in your search." They all bowed as Lord Voldemort turned, Snape coming up to his side at a respectful pace. Bellatrix was giving Snap a hateful look; jealous of the apparent

favoritism the Dark Lord seemed to be showing Snape.

They both walked out of the room, once the door was closed, the Dark Lord said to Snape,

"Severus, the time has come, the prophecy is about to be fulfilled, but I will be there Severus, no mistake about that..." he said coldly. Severus didn't seem to show any response to this, his face remained nebulous.

"What would you have me do my Lord?" he asked softly.

Voldemort stood there, carefully analyzing Snape's response, reading his face intently. Then he replied, "I want you to do my bidding."

Snape immediately bowed his head submissively, "As you command my Lord."

Voldemort nodded his head, "Walk with me."

They started down the empty street, unafraid of anyone they might encounter, '_After all, I am Lord Voldemort, and soon the only one who will challenge me will be dead.' _thought Voldemort maliciously.

"Severus, I want you to maintain your link with Dumbledore until the very end, wait for my command after the deed is done, you will be instructed further."

"You don't want me to participate in the search for the item?" Snape asked carefully.

"No. I have changed my mind; your services are better put elsewhere." Voldemort said.

They continued walking down a ways in silence, Snape cast a strong glare into the back of Voldemort's head, '_I could kill him now, and Lily wouldn't be in danger...' _Voldemort halted, and turned his head, giving Snape a vapid expression. Snape's heart

skipped a beat, '_Did he hear me?'_

"Severus, go now to Hogwarts," said Voldemort, "you will await my orders there, don't try to make contact till then, keep allow profile, I don't want the old fool to realize anything."

"As you wish my Lord." replied Snape, apparating instantly with a small _snap_.

The Dark Lord stood still, his head cocked to one side, as if listening to something almost inaudible. His smile grew from one ear to the other, "Almost..." he whispered. He didn't want to wait for the search for the item to conclude. It was irksome, if he

didn't rid himself of this parasite that is the Potter's son he would never feel at ease... '_I'll do it right now, I'll destroy him. I cannot allow someone to challenge Lord Voldemort's powers.' _He regained his composure, his face sepulchral and dreadful. His eyes

shining a reddish hue, he put up his hood, and apparated on the spot, letting history takes its course.


End file.
